


I promise that I care much more than I show

by network



Series: Destiny Shorts [4]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: (kinda), Angst, Destiny 1, Developing Relationship, Drinking to Cope, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Feelings of Inadequacy, M/M, Mourning, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 08:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18913048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/network/pseuds/network
Summary: I can't help this awful energy[ Cayde feels out of place and guilty, and Zavala is a disaster gay with no way of expressing his emotions ]





	I promise that I care much more than I show

            Cayde sighs, watching the City slowly fall asleep below him. Even out here, on the open roof of the Tower, he feels confined. Sure, there’s the wind against his frame, the burning smell of semi-fresh air and the hum of activity below, but none of it feels _right._ He shouldn’t be stuck here, watching the world move by outside while in meeting after meeting, day after day. An endless stream of paperwork and reports, useless for people like him.

            And you know what, Cayde decides, it wouldn’t be half as bad if the rest of the Vanguard didn’t fucking hate him.

            He may act like a dumbass, but he isn’t, really. He sees it in their eyes when he acts out as his only way of expressing his frustration. Ikora barely tolerates him, watches him warily and chastises him quietly, but _Zavala_? He sees the man shake with just-concealed rage, sees the anger and disappointment and hatred brimming in deep blue eyes. Not once has Cayde ever heard Zavala mention him in passing, let alone praise him. Hell, the man hardly speaks to him. Just glares with a clear message.

            _I don’t want you here._

_You shouldn’t be here._

            And yeah, Cayde shouldn’t be here. Cayde wants to be out there, in the Wilds, doing what he does best – shooting shit and trying not to let the misfires and fragments of memories come to the front of his mind. Andal should be here instead – serious enough to get his work done, with an edge of carefree Hunter, who he was before. Andal’s cloak has never felt more alien, nor any heavier on his shoulders. This isn’t his place.

            And yet, he finds his confinement growing on him. Banshee’s here, at least, and Shiro drops by from time to time. He’s teaching the newest of his Hunters cards, and she brings him things from the Wilds in return. And sometimes he swears that Ikora’s exasperated looks have a hint of affection to them, or that he catches Zavala watching him.

            Maybe things will get better.

\--

            He lost three Hunters today.

            He remembers their names clearly, burned into his head as they repeat on a constant loop. Mizuro-16. Verasoka. Crone. He’d played the part of a Vanguard when the news came in, stoic and serious and all the things he’s not, but now, alone in his too-cramped flat, sequestered away in a corner of his room, he lets the façade drop. He can’t cry, not really, but he sure as hell can drink away his emotions until he loses the desire to.

            A knock at his door makes him frown, and he draws on the last modicum of effort he finds himself capable of in order to appear presentable. With a close imitation of a deep steadying breath, he slides open the door.

            On the other side stands Zavala. That alone is surprising, and the equivalent of Cayde’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. He nods in greeting, an attempt to hide his emotions, before speaking. “Commander. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

            His words and tone are ridiculously formal, he knows - especially for him - and he hopes that Zavala gets the hint that he’d like to be left alone. But of course, he doesn’t. “Cayde. May I come in?”

            He nods mutely, stepping back to allow the Titan entry. When the door shuts behind him, Cayde turns to see the Commander frowning at his apartment. When he officially became a Vanguard, he’d been given the space, fully furnished with standard, plain amenities and furniture, and since then he’s done nothing to it, really. Maps and reports cover the kitchen table in messy piles (he doesn’t need a table, he doesn’t eat after all), the kitchen unused and spotless. The only indication that anyone lives here at all is the case of cheap alcohol on a counter, and the cape carefully folded on a pristine armchair.

            It’s stupid, he knows, but it helps Cayde to keep his apartment like this. Spartan, cold. Unused. Like he could grab Andal’s – _his_ – cloak, get Sundance to transmatt up the maps and leave. Someone else could instantly move in. It helps him to avoid thinking about the truth – that he’s stuck here till the day he dies.

            “No time to decorate?” The rumble of Zavala’s voice is warm, and Cayde swears there’s an undertone of concern there, but that’s probably just the alcohol talking.

            “No need.” Short, simple. The Commander can infer whatever meaning he’d like.

            Something in Zavala simultaneously tenses and relaxes, and he watches Cayde carefully. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

            Cayde’s optics narrow in suspicion, but, after a few tense moments, he relaxes slightly. “Does it matter?”

            Zavala’s features soften – “Of course it does, Cayde. _You_ matter.”

            Cayde shrugs – “Is that all you needed, Commander?”

            The Titan’s laugh catches him off guard, but even he has to admit that it’s a nice sound. He might even start liking Zavala’s laugh if he’s around long enough to. “For now, yes.” He turns to leave and pauses in the doorway. “No more alcohol tonight, Cayde. Get some sleep.”

            He’s tempted to waste the night away drinking anything with a decent percentage, if only to spite the Commander, but realises with a huff that he’s right. Sleep does sound great right now.


End file.
